Only Us
by ThornsOfaPerfectRose
Summary: Just some Apritello pondering fluffiness. Enjoy!


"Do you ever feel like you're being watched?" April asked, looking up at Donnie as she lay in the grass beside him. The stars reflected in her eyes; his, passive and unreadable, as always. He had a passing thought of how bright the stars must be shining to break through the layers of smog that encased New York City. He shook his head, deciding science was out of the question for the evening; he'd put it out of his mind as best he could and try to enjoy the simple pleasures in life- such as knowing the redheaded angel adjacent to himself belonged to no other, and they were safe enough (for the moment) to lounge comfortably in a clearing in Central Park, just gazing at the fiery balls of gas light years away that somehow managed to twinkle as if they topped a Christmas tree as soon as they entered the atmosphere.

Running his hands through her hair, he answered, "Someone's always watching. My brothers, Sensei..." Dare he say it? Dare he potentially ruin this perfect moment? He risked it: "Even Shredder and the Kraang watch more than I'd like."

Without ever drawing her dark eyes away from the constellations overhead, she countered, "I mean like someone else. Like a god or something. Maybe even the God."

He sighed, entwining their hands to tell her to hear him out. Sometimes the most important things anyone said came at the end of a speech. "April, you know I don't believe in that." He'd tried to keep his science away, but there it was, always battling his will to infiltrate every part of his life. "I'm a scientist. I rely on facts; evolution, physics, everything."

She sat up and leveled her gaze at him intently, breaking away from the beautiful night sky. "I know, it's just... You can't tell me you don't feel _some_ sort of presence, some being, watching, always there. I wouldn't buy it if you did."

He nodded in consent. "I'm not going to deny that," he said. He took a breath to steady himself, realizing that somewhere in this conversation her hand had slid from his up his arm, pulling them closer, for warmth, maybe- but, no, it wasn't chilly in the slightest that night. He could guess what the subconscious gesture was: protecting each other from their own insights on what was out there, the existence that seemed to pull at the corner of their eyes, to beckon them where they couldn't quite see, to call for them when they were just almost out of range.

He would be lying if he said he had never felt those strange effects.

April ran her hands up her arms, not from cold, but from the feeling of insects crawling on her. It was common when in the grass, especially if one had been stationary for a long period of time. She thought she'd avoided it by focusing on Donnie and the galaxies and solar systems far above them, but it seemed there was more than one purely mental thing the presence controlled- she couldn't fight the feeling of ants, and beetles, and- God forbid- _cockroaches_ pulling at her skin, threatening to help her body start the decomposition process before it was ready to do so.

"But," he continued, "I honestly don't think it's God or a god or anything." Donnie wasn't quite sure how to put into words the thoughts circulating through his brain. His theory, albeit it sounded strange even to himself, was that, "It's us."

"I hope you've got a follow up hidden up your sleeve," April told him, wondering what he could _possibly_ mean.

He, as always, of course, did. "I think we force ourselves to watch our lives play out from a distance," he said. "Especially when we're not satisfied with them. We... Our consciousness, they weigh us down, disapprove or agree with the things we do, and- and it feels like someone else is silently judging us."

April nodded, liking the way the idea stuck in her mind and make her think about a possibility she'd never even considered until now. "Like a school mean girl, but... Everywhere."

She wasn't particularly religious, especially not since her mother died and her family was ripped apart like a bug in a hurricane, but she liked to believe in something.

Donnie, on the other hand, couldn't, no matter what, convince himself that there was anything out there but satellites and maybe a few extraterrestrial life forms. His theory dealt with psychology, and though he didn't quite believe, for the most part, that a natural conscious existed (he had, after all, seen Shredder's brutal attacks); he assumed it was something instilled in creatures at a young age, and if you were never taught, you could wind up worse than a wild grizzly.

The thought that they were combining beliefs to find common ground lifted both of their spirits, even as an ominous cloud blocked the moon and the stars seemed to darken with dread. Dreading what, they'd never know, since their agreement was the only exciting thing happening in Central Park at that hour, but still, nothing would take the joy out of a certain group of eyes; two red, but brown in the darkness, and two a blue-gray that nearly matched the sky.

And as April O'Neil snuggled into the shoulder of the mutant, knowing he'd keep her safe, a similar thought was racing through both their minds.

_It's us, _Donatello thought.

April's was almost a continuation of that, but felt more possessive. Dancing in her head were two words:

**_Only _**_us._


End file.
